Chapter 66

Jude frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll wear my T-shirt and boxers. And, um…”

“If my hand goes somewhere it shouldn’t, just shove it away,” Jude said gently. “I’m not going to get pissy with you if you do. S’your body, s’up to you what I touch.”

“Okay,” Anton said, a little of the nerves twisting in his chest soothed by Jude’s calm expression. “So, um…you mind…”

“I need to go to the toilet anyway,” Jude said—probably lying, but Anton didn’t call him on it—and he slipped out. Anton nearly exploded out of the bed, ripping his T-shirt off and hastily fumbling to get the binder off, too. They were awkward to put on and remove, and could leave horrible lines and marks sometimes, and he didn’t want Jude to see either his breasts or the bruises. He heard the bathroom door close as he got the binder off, and kept his eyes closed as he rummaged in the drawers for a fresh T-shirt to sleep in, something baggier and darker that would hide his shape better.